


The one from another point of view

by KS_Claw



Series: Ruptured worship [2]
Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, Sandy still can't take a frikkin' hint, a different POV fic, eldritch au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5394461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KS_Claw/pseuds/KS_Claw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to "The one with no real happy ending." The story told from the POV of Lady Pitchiner's Housemaid, along with her thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one from another point of view

**Author's Note:**

> So I felt like writing a sequel to The One with No Real Happy Ending, and based on a suggestion from Sylphidine_Gallimaufry, I ended up doing it from a completely different point of view than I first thought of. Maybe I’ll do a third story (or post one I wrote already if I don’t decide to change it), but we’ll see. For now, hope you guys enjoy!

One hundred and forty-five steps. That is the exact number I walk, when I go from the gates of the Pitchiner estate, and to my Lady’s rooms. I do not really know when I first began to count them, but it helps pass the time and to distract my thoughts, especially when it is but the same messages I carry back and forth.

_“Lord Mansnoozie is asking to see you, my lady.”_

Which is always followed by:

_“I am sorry, but her Ladyship is not available at this time.”_

Sometimes, I add that she has a prior engagement, though it is not necessarily the truth. But it is my task, in any case, to see to that Lord Mansnoozie is not allowed inside the estate.

It is an easy task, and most maids I know would pay all their wages for easy work of that sort, but it is not something I take pleasure in. Whenever I reach the early hundred-and-thirties of my counting, when I reach the outside, my heart always feels like a trapped bird in a cage, hammering relentlessly in my chest as I near the gates.

I never meet his eyes (or  _its_  eyes, I should say). I have only once, and had my Pappy not been there to pinch me, I should surely have been captured by  _its_ gaze, same as what happened to my Lady’s late husband.

 _‘Beware the starry eyed folk, my child,’_  I recall my granny saying, as I move towards the gates this morning.  _'For if they look you in the eye, they will always see something they desire. And then they will not stop until they have wrung every last drop from you.’_

Pappy knows the story, same as I do, and for his and Mama’s sake, I keep my eyes on the ground or to the side, anywhere but directly at Lord Mansnoozie. For the most part it is easy, due to Lord Mansnoozie’s short stature.

This morning is no exception. I keep my eyes away from him, from his golden gaze and toward the beautiful golden carriage that he has arrived in. I give him my Lady’s message, and he responds the same, with a quick little bow at the waist and a slight tip of his little, round hat, before he gives a skip and almost floats back to the carriage.

The door opens for him, and for a moment, I am certain I see a darker shape between all that gold, a shape that looks like a man… But then the door to the carriage closes, and the golden horses pull it off down the road, disappearing out of sight.  
————————————

I used to wonder why a great beast like that, would choose such a seemingly harmless, short form. But when I ask my granny as I work on scrubbing vegetables in the kitchen, she gives me the most scornful look, as though I had spoken quite foolishly.

“Those beasties know that their true forms can be dangerous.” She says, as she roughly plucks the chicken in her hands for supper. “See one’s true form and you might risk madness. It does not happen always, but it can! So they disguise themself as something you will not see as a threat, be it anything from a seemingly harmless creature, to a lovely maiden or even a _child._ ” She gives me another sharp look at that, as though warning me to choose my next words carefully when she asks:

“Tell me girl, before the wedding; Did you suspect Lord Mansnoozie to be one of those beasties?”

I avert my eyes, feeling shame burn in my cheeks. Granny knows I had no clue. I do not believe any of us really did, except for those who might have the sight. And of course, the late Master Pitchiner himself.

Granny snorts softly, resuming her plucking with the same ferocity as before. “Of course no one knew,” she muttered. “How could anyone, from such a tiny, charming  _star pilot?_ ” her upper lip curls in an angry sneer. “Whatever it did to snare in poor Kozmotis is  _anyone’s_  guess.”

I look up carefully from the vegetables, and for a brief moment, I can see angry tears shimmering in Granny’s eyes. I turn my eyes away out of respect. Granny has the bite of an old, angry dog at times, but it is merely her way to hide the hurt.

We all mourn for the loss of Master Pitchiner. Some of us more than others.  
————————————

_One hundred forty two. One hundred forty tree. One hundred forty four. One hundred forty five._

Lord Mansnoozie is always so calm and polite, which I suppose is a way to try and make you forget what he really is. Or he hopes it is, in any case. He smiles, and bows, tipping his little round hat as he greets me, and gives me his usual request, speaking in the swirly sandy language of Star Pilots.

_'I would like to speak with your mistress, please.’_

I curtsy, keeping my eyes averted, and give him the same reply as I always do:

“I will see if my Lady is available.” And then I turn, counting the steps in my head.

 _One. Two. Three…_  
————————————

All young girls have hopeless dreams, I believe. Those of us born in the low classes sometimes dream of having a man of higher class meet us, and somehow fall madly in love with us, before sweeping us away to another life of wealth and luxury, where we will never have to do another day of hard work again.

But those are only dreams. As a maid, I have since learned that those of higher class sometimes work just as hard as the rest of us, if only in a different way. Some of them work to improve the lives of others, no matter what part of life they come from. Others work only on improving life for themselves.

The Pitchiner family was all of the former mindset; that everyone is to be treated equally and with respect, so long as they have earned it. Pappy recalls when the parents of Master Pitchiner lived in this estate, raising their son by this belief.

He chose a good wife in Lady Pitchiner. She works so hard, listening to everyone who comes to her with their troubles, and despite having come from a higher class, she is not afraid to get her hands dirty. She would gladly go out into the fields and aid in gathering the harvest, or any other chore that is needed to be done, no matter how it muddies her dress or ruffles her hair.

But it is with a heavy heart that I wonder if that is why Master Pitchiner picked him for his bride to be? So that she could be there to take care of everything, when Mansnoozie took him away?

It would not be fair then, if that were the case. Not to any of us, but most of all not to her.

“It isn’t fair, child.” Mama agrees, when I voice my thoughts to her.

“I wish we could have known before.” I mutter bitterly, before I clasp my hand over my mouth, my eyes widening. Mama shakes her head a bit, and I make a quick motion, moving my right hand from my left shoulder and to my right, my hand closed with only my index finger pointing out, as though I am making a motion to cut myself across my throat.

Wishing these days is a mighty dangerous thing. Granny has taught everyone in the family to protect ourselves like this, just in case, as it keeps unintentional wishes from being heard.

Considering recent events, you can never be too careful.  
————————————

My Lady has not been sleeping well lately. You can see it in her face, from the shadows under her eyes. She keeps herself as straight and tall as ever, but it is hard for her.

I know it is the work of Mansnoozie. I came to wake my Lady up one morning not too long ago, and she was asleep, but thrashing and crying, as though she was fighting to wake herself up. I ran and got help, and could only watch as everyone else tried to help her. The House Steward, Mr. Hourston was the first I got, but the only thing he could do was hold my Lady down, and keep her from hurting herself when she tried scratching at her own face to wake herself up. When she began to calm down, I was sent off to fetch the doctor.

But he could only tell us, what we had all guessed by then. That Mansnoozie, that awful beast, was going into Lady Pitchiner’s dreams for reasons we could only guess at.

I overheard the doctor telling Lady Pitchiner, that he wishes he could give her a ward to protect herself with, if he knew it would work. But no charms work against the likes of Mansnoozie.

I hastily make the warding symbol against careless wishes (though I know the doctor did not do it on purpose), while hidden from them in the doorway. As I finish, I hear my Lady sigh tiredly, and my heart aches at the words that follow:

“If there were such things to begin with, I would still have a husband.”  
————————————

My Lady’s sleep continues to be troubled. She tries to keep herself awake, or to chase her dreams away with tonics that Granny makes for her. But the tonics do nothing, and Mansnoozie still visits her dreams in the night.

Counting my steps keeps my temper under control, even though I would like nothing more than to be furious at that stubborn creature. Why does he continue to torment her? Has he not had what he wanted, by taking Master Pitchiner from her? _From us?_

I would like to be able to look him in the eyes and ask him these questions, but I force myself to stay with my mundane task.

As always, he requests to see my Lady. I go to her, and give her his message. She replies, her words furious, that she will not see him. I return to him, and politely tell him that she is not available.

It does not feel as though it has only been a few months since that awful wedding. But every time I see that carriage leave, I quietly hope for it to never return.

So far, I have only been disappointed.  
————————————

People are asking questions about everything, it seems. While I have duties as a house maid, I sometimes have to help with running errands for the kitchens, such as going to the market or running with messages.

At times like that, I sometimes hear people whispering around me, when they think I am not paying attention. They see the crest of the Pitchiner estate, and then the talking begins, usually in the form of questions.

_What happened to Master Pitchiner? Did you not hear? Is it true what they say? That a creature from beyond the stars stole him? Why did he let that happen? Did it seduce him? Bewitch him?_

Questions upon questions upon questions.

What few answers there are in-between are either from other servants who also worked at the wedding, or have worked with people who witnessed what happened that night. I am rarely asked about it, because I am so young and nothing but a slip of a girl, so I obviously know nothing.

If only that were the case.

Sometimes when I close my eyes, I remember hearing my Lady’s screams as she fled, calling for help, and how most of us were ushered outside and told to run.

I was among the first, aiding my Lady who was weeping helplessly. Had I and another not supported her, she would surely have been trampled.

But one thing I remember most of all, was the sight of what at first sight looked like a golden cloud, hovering above one of the balconies of the mansion. A golden cloud with black threaded through it.

I remember feeling quite afraid at the time, as I realized what it was I was looking at, and then one of the house stewarts was there, holding me by the arm, and guiding Lady Pitchiner and myself to a carriage, which took off as soon as we were inside to bring us to safety.

Since then, I have started to quite dislike the color of gold.   
————————————

It has been six months now, and Lord Mansnoozie has not let up in his pursuits. Always the same carriage, always the same request, always the same polite smile. Always the same one hundred and forty five steps.

Lady Pitchiner has not had a peaceful nights sleep for a long time now. It is as though Lord Mansnoozie gets more desperate in trying to seduce her to his side. But she is strong willed, because she has not yet allowed him inside to see her, even though she gets more and more tired for each day that passes.

I met her during the night once, only a day after Lord Mansnoozie’s last visit, and she nearly frightened the life out of me. As pale as she was, had I not recognized her, I might have believed her to be a restless spirit that had found its way to the Pitchiner Estate. But she apologized to me for my fright, and simply sent me back to bed, telling me that she was simply going for a walk before attempting sleep herself.

But as pale and thin as she has become, I believe she has continued her night time wanderings.

Granny does not like it. She is worried that if Lady Pitchiner’s health continues to deteriorate, we can all look forward to losing our mistress as well as our home. Rumors have begun to circulate that the estate has been cursed due to Lord Mansnoozie’s interest, and while our harvest has been abundant, there has been no proper trade.

My poor mistress. If only something could be done for you.  
————————————

_One hundred and forty two. One hundred and forty three. One hundred and forty four. One hundred and forty five._

Lord Mansnoozie greets me with a smile as always, tipping his hat and giving his small bow.

_'I would like to speak with your mistress, please.’_

I curtsy, but instead of turning to leave, I straighten up and keep my eyes fixed ahead of me.

“I am sorry, Lord Mansnoozie, but my mistress has taken ill.” I say, keeping my voice as steady as possible. “She can not be allowed any visitors.”

The door is open to the carriage, and I can see the dark figure inside. For the first time as far as I remember, it seems to stir when I mention that Lady Pitchiner is not well.

It is no lie either. The lack of sleep, the awful dreams and the hard work she has buried herself in to keep her mind occupied, have finally taken their toll and I know for a fact that she lies in bed now, heavily asleep. She has become terribly weak, however, her breath strained and her lovely face so thin it might as well be skeletal.

The doctor hopes that sleeping in daytime will give her the peace she requires, if only just for a few hours.

Lord Mansnoozie has the gall to look concerned. I wonder if he can sense my contempt for him, because he simply bids me farewell like he always does, before he returns to the carriage.

Strangely, it looks for a moment as if he has to keep something else from coming out of the carriage this time. But it is probably a trick of the eye, as the door soon closes behind him like it always does, and then is on its way back down the road.  
————————————

There is a storm over the estate that night. It is no normal storm, Granny tells me, and I believe her. There is something in those clouds above the mansion, hiding between the flashes of lightning and the rolls of thunder.

I have an inkling of what it might be, but I do not voice my thoughts. Instead, I stay in my bed, hiding under my covers like a little girl, and quietly hope that whatever is out there will soon go away.

Lightning flashes by the windows, and when the thunder comes, it sounds as if a giant dagger suddenly carves a hole in the universe and scares me right out of my bed. I run to the window with some of the other maids that I share a room with, and we see that the lightning has torn straight down into an old tree that stands in the courtyard. It is an old decrepit thing, and I know Pappy and a few other men have been talking of pulling it down and planting something new. But now it stands there fully ablaze, yellow and blue flames eating away at the old wood.

No one dares go out while the storm is gone to quench the fire, before it can cause any damage. But somehow, I have the feeling that the death of the old tree was a victory of some kind, because the thunder and lightning slowly begins to fade away, and heavy drops of rain begin to fall from the clouds.

I still do not voice my thoughts out loud, but a look at the other maids tell me that I am at least not alone with these thoughts.

Something strange has happened tonight, but what it is I can not say. But it felt like a fight between two powerful beings. Whoever it was, and whoever won, I can not say.  
————————————

It has been almost a week since the storm and Lord Mansnoozie has not been by for his usual visit.

We all wait, some of us listening or keeping watch, but there is no sign. Not of him, nor his golden carriage.

Lady Pitchiner did not sleep well for a few days after the storm, at least not until both Granny and the doctor talked her into trying another tonic. It knocked her right off her feet, and after sleeping the whole night through, she woke up feeling refreshed for the first time in a long time. When the doctor asked her how she felt, all she told him that she had not dreamed.

Her eyes looked so sad when she said this, however.

When I told her how there had been no sight or sound of Lord Mansnoozie for the past week, she only gave me a tired, sad look, as though the news were expected in some way.

“Please continue keeping an eye out,” she tells me later. “One can never know what might happen. Or when.”

I simply curtsy, and leave her to her own thoughts. I quietly agree with her, however.

One can never be too careful when it comes to the beings from beyond the stars.


End file.
